Roger Brook (01): Launching of Roger Brook, The by Wheatley Dennis

Author:Wheatley, Dennis [Wheatley, Dennis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Espionage, Fiction, Historical, Novel
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 1947-01-14T03:00:00+00:00

15

The Dream

For a long moment she lay passive in his arms, then she wrenched herself away and stood staring at him. Her eyes were round, not with fright, but with some emotion that he could not analyse.

Slowly drawing the back of her hand across her mouth, she whispered: ‘You shouldn’t have done that. No man has ever done that to me before.’

‘Then there is less chance that you’ll forget it,’ he said harshly. His face and hands were stinging abominably and thin red weals were springing up in the dozen places where the switch had lashed them. He felt not a twinge of remorse as he went on: ‘However many Dukes and Princes may kiss you in the future you’ll always remember that your first kiss was given you by a servant, an upstart, a nobody. That is, unless you have the sense to realise that if we both cut ourselves your blood would show no bluer than mine; and that ’tis no disgrace to be kissed by a man who loves you.’

‘If I tell my father of this, he will have you branded with red-hot irons and thrown into prison afterwards,’ she said slowly.

His bruised lips pained him as he gave a twisted smile. ‘I know it. I’ve lived here long enough to realise that the nobility has devised the most fiendish punishments for anyone who lays a finger on their womenfolk. So it seems that my love for you must be mighty desperate for me to have risked that kiss.’

‘’Twas not love, but hate, that inspired you at that moment.’

‘Maybe, you’re right. Maybe, though, ‘twas contempt for all you stand for; coupled with the wish to melt that stony heart of yours.’

‘Mount me on my mare,’ she ordered suddenly.

Obediently, he held out his hand about two feet from the ground; she placed a small foot in its palm and, as he took her weight, sprang into the saddle.

‘My whip,’ she demanded, and added as he gave it to her: ‘You are not to follow me for an hour.’ Then, turning her mare, she galloped away.

Left to himself Roger descended to the river’s edge and bathed his smarting face and hands. When the pain had eased a little he sat down to consider the possible outcome of his rash act.

Soon after his arrival at the château Athénaïs had had one of the footmen thrashed for spilling a cup of chocolate down her gown; so he felt that she was quite capable of having him branded and imprisoned for his infinitely more serious offence.

At the moment he was still a free man, and so not compelled to return to the château. Twilight was now falling, and he had a good horse upon which he could put many miles between himself and Bécherel during the night. But he had only a little silver on him and if Athénaïs requested the authorities to arrest him there was little chance of his being able to get clean away.

He felt, too, that it would be the act of a coward to attempt to run away.

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